Swallow Down Your Hisses
by Soncnica
Summary: It was an ungodly hour when Sam held Dean down for Bobby to push a tube down Dean's throat.


**SO...** **Marlowe78 requested this: **

_I guess it's near impossible that this will get filled, with all the awesome prompts here and the sheer MASS of them. Anyway, I certainly will write at least one prompt, so maybe I'll get lucky I want force-fed Dean! Not any kinky stuff, but Dean needs to swallow something, maybe some disgusting cure for a curse, or some baddie needs to feed him something nasty, I don't care. Please, just hold him down, stuff a tube down his throat (he's struggling, because either: Baddie or he's so out of it that he can't recognize John, Sam, Bobby or whoever. I'd love you if it's repeatedly done to him... Please? Pretty Please? _

**over at hoodie_time on LJ and my mind went nuts! I have nooooo knowledge of this, of how this is done OR how it feels, I can only imagine, so… if I described something way, way off, please don't hold it against me… just take it as it is… fiction! Thank you!**

**Enjoy…**

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"Hey man." Sam said softly like he always does when he has bad news. He sits down on the edge of the bed, watching his brother looking for something in his duffle.

"The car needs to be washed."

"Yeah, yeah," pause to take a deep breath, "listen Dean…"

"I'll wash her now, when it's not too hot outside."

"Yeah sure, man… but… listen, me and Bobby… we found a cure."

Dean's back straightens up and is stiff as a rod.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, but…" Sam pauses, because he doesn't know how to really approach this, he hasn't practiced this speech enough, "but the thing is…"

Dean turns around with a dirty T-shirt in his hand, his jaw clenched tight.

"The thing is that it's strong, real strong… so strong that if you swallow it, it'll destroy the tissue umm in your throat. It'll… it's like acid, 's like…"

"…okay, I get the picture."

Dean watches Sam rub his palms up and down his thighs, nervous and a bit scared, and still hiding something.

"Spill."

"Yeah, but we found how to… fix that."

Dean throws the tee next to Sam's hip on the bed and sits down on the opposite bed, their knees almost touching, but not.

"How?"

Sam rubs the back of his neck with his hand and sighs: "Just, promise me you won't freak out."

"Seriously? Me? Freak out?"

"We're gonna put a tube down your throat and put the cure directly into your stomach." He blurts out… 's like ripping off a band aid. Quick and efficient and if you do it right, it only stings for a bit.

Dean's eyes go wide, breath getting stuck in his lungs refusing to go out and he has to clear his throat, make his muscles work again and breathe out: "You're kidding, right?"

"No."

Dean stands up, pokes a finger into Sam's chest and growls: "You come near me with a tube, you're a dead man."

"Dean…" Sam sighs, because he knew exactly how this will play out.

"Shut up and think of something else, because you are not sticking a tube down my throat."

"Dean, look, people get this done every day, it won't hurt and Bobby knows what he's doing, okay? All you'll have to do is relax, alright. 's not gonna hurt."

"'m not worried 'bout hurtin' man. It's just… a tube down my throat? What the hell? No, just no, Sam. No way."

"Dean… come on… this is all we've got."

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

Dean moves, picks up the T-shirt: "'m gonna go wash the car." and leaves Sam alone sitting on the bed.

"That went awesome."

-:-

"We have ta, Sam. He ain't gonna last much longer and he can't just swallow it, it'll destroy his throat."

"I know that, but man, he's…"

"… got a hard head, but we have ta or he'll die."

They're standing in the middle of the living room; Sam leaning on the table, with stacks of books behind his back, his arms crossed at his chest, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to the middle of his forearms and Bobby found his spot near the window, the backs of his legs touching the couch, his cap placed neatly on top of his head.

"Yeah, yeah… I know."

-:-

He had been cleaning up his baby, trying to distract himself from the cold fire in his stomach, from fear gripping his chest; this is not he first time he's close to death, but it's the first time he's _so_ close to death. It ain't awesome.

He's walking towards Bobby's living room wiping his hands on his jeans, leaving wet spots all over his thighs when murmured voices come to his ears and slip into his brain.

"… _but we have__ ta, or he'll die."_

That makes him stop right between the door frame from the hallway to the living room and he grips the frame closes to him to steady himself, because no… no, he doesn't want that.

"Yeah, yeah… I know."

His brother's words are spoken softly and he knows deep inside, he knows that what they're saying is true, it has to be done and he knows that it pains Sam just as much as it pains him, but…

"No, no freakin' way are you putting that," he points to the thin, white tube Bobby is holding in his hand, "anywhere near me."

-:-

"No, no freakin' way are you putting that," Sam turns his head to the words, he hadn't seen his brother come in, hadn't heard him and that just comes to prove how amazing his brother is at sneaking up behind people's backs, "anywhere near me."

Dean's eyes are wide for a second and then they narrow into tiny slits… his brother is pissed and scared and all that is a dangerous combination.

"Dean…" he detaches himself from the edge of the table and makes one step towards Dean, watching careful the way Dean makes one step back.

"Dean…" one step forward, one step back.

"Sam, no. No way in hell…"

"Dean, come on."

They walk… Sam one step forward matching Dean's steps backward. It's not funny, it's downright scary, because Dean's gonna bolt, he's gonna run and he's gonna hide and it's gonna take at least a few hours for Sam to find him and he really, really mustn't let Dean get to the Impala.

Dean starts running and Sam runs after him. They've never done this; Dean has never ever run away from anything be it a case, pain, medicine, problems sure, but they always talked it over… eventually.

So this… what they're doing now… Dean running and Sam chasing him… is totally new to Sam, but he knows that all he has to do is not let Dean get to the Impala.

Dean's a fast runner, sure he is, but Sam's legs are longer and he catches his brother somewhere in the middle of the yard, grabbing his brother around his waist and pushing him to the floor.

They raise dust and pebbles up in the air, stuff flying everywhere when they land on the South Dakota soil.

Sam is heavy on Dean's back, but he raises himself up a little and Dean spins around just enough so that Sam can pin his arms down to the rocky floor.

"Get off me!"

"Dean…"

"Sam, get off me!"

"Dean, if we don't do this, you'll die."

"Get off!"

If looks could kill, Sam would be dead ten times already.

"Dean, you'll die."

Sam's voice's soft and gentle, speaking a truth that physically hurts him and he knows that Dean knows, but it's the truth and maybe the more he says it, the faster it'll get into Dean's stubborn brain.

"Sam, get off me or I swear to God…"

"You'll die."

Dean closes his eyes, sighs and pushes Sam off of him, kicking him where it hurts and a moment later he's hoping that Sam will still be able to have kids.

He stands up, dusts himself off, feeling pissed off and embarrassed and walks back into the house mumbling something that Sam really probably doesn't wanna know about.

At least he went to the house and not the Impala, Sam thinks while he sits on the hot ground.

-:-

"We should do it tonight. When he'll be asleep."

"Yeah." Bobby fixes his cap and throws the sleeping pills onto the couch.

-:-

They sneak into the room and see Dean sleeping on his back on top of the covers still in his jeans and a black T-shirt, one leg bent one straight, right hand on his chest and his left next to his side, lips parted, breathing slow and deep, head turned slightly to his left, towards the moonlight coming through the window.

Sam points to Bobby to go that side, go to the window and wait.

He's on top of his brother before Dean can take his next breath, body pinning Dean down, his left palm on Dean's forehead, pushing his head back and down into the pillow, his right one pinning Dean's left to the bed, his chest pinning Dean's to the bed.

He's stronger then his brother who's still a bit sleepy, the sleeping pills wearing off a little from the shock and when he puts all his weight down on top of his brother, Dean can't really move… much.

He does move his legs a little, but Sam pins them down with his own and Dean can't move… not anymore.

Sam looks into Dean's wide awake and confused eyes, the green in them too bright in the light that Bobby must've turned on, while Sam was concentrating on manhandling his brother.

"Bobby!" Sam yells and the man is there instantly, prying Dean's mouth open – the sleeping pills still making Dean's actions slow, sluggish, not quite there yet - and Sam tries to ignore the panic and fear in those green eyes that are open so wide, Sam's afraid they'll fall out.

"Dean, 's okay, 's alright, okay. Just relax, come on. I gotcha. Ain't gonna hurt, if you just relax, remember what I told ya. Okay. Just relax."

Sam whispers to his brother while putting more pressure on Dean's forehead; his palm sliding on the skin there because of Dean's and his sweat.

"Sam…"

Dean crosses his eyes to see the white, rubber tube, smaller then a normal straw come closer to his mouth and he gasps: "Sam…" a nanosecond before he feels Bobby putting the tube into his mouth. He tries to bite on it, but Bobby's hand is griping his jaw so tight, he might dislocate it before he closes it. It tastes foul, kinda like rubber and disinfectant and plastic but in some way not really and he wants to pull it out, puke it out, cough it out, something anything but he can't because his fuckin' brother is so heavy on top of him, he can barely breathe.

He wheezes like he's drowning, his lungs starting to burn and one look from Sam, tells him to try and breathe normal. His brother doesn't have to say it, Dean can read it in his eyes and in the way Sam's breathing on top of him… all measured breaths nice and slow.

That little bastard.

He feels Sam's palm on his forehead, his brother's fingers stroking his hair where he can reach… he can see Sam's face just far enough from his own so that he doesn't have to cross his eyes to properly look at him. He can feel Sam's breath on his cheek; the bastard had coffee so that means… that he had sleeping pills. Fucking hell… no wonder that all he can do it lay there and take it; sleeping pills and Sam's whole weight on top of him…

The little bastard.

He starts to struggle more which is really dumb of him, because he can't… can't really do anything, can only move his fingers and toes. Sam's good, Sam learned from the best, hell it was Dean who taught him how to pin someone down efficiently.

The little bastard.

"Relax man, come on."

Sam's saying, but Dean really, really can't because the tube is going down his throat now and it burns, burns so bad tears appear in the corners of his eyes. Fuckin' tears but he can't help it, because it burns like they're sticking hot iron down his throat and he just really wants to puke. He starts choking on it, but that doesn't help, because Bobby just pulls it out a tiny, tiny bit and then puts it back in when Dean stops with the choking noises.

Dean looks at Bobby, but he only sees deep concentration there so he looks back up at his baby brother, trying to tell him with his eyes '_fuckin' stop, stop doing this.' _

"Dean, calm down, 's okay…"

Dean buckles up, squirms and makes a sound that's not quite a gurgle and not quite a groan, maybe it's a _sonofabitch _butmuffled by the tube sliding down his throat.

"Boy, ya need to relax or we'll get nowhere…"

He hears Bobby's voice on his left side and wants to say _'Well, let's get nowhere then' _but can't really say anything, so he looks at the old man and hopes that his eyes are perfectly clear with spelling out _'Screw you'_.

"Dean, you'll die if we don't do this. Just relax alright."

Dean wants to push Sam's sweaty, heavy palm stroking the side of his neck away, push everything and everyone away, puke out the tube and run, but instead he relaxes, because that's what his brother said to do and the tube slides all the way down easily.

Because he really doesn't wanna die, because maybe… this will be his final death and he's not ready for it yet. He still has work to do, he still has his baby brother to protect and to save.

"'s it man. Now just breathe, alright, just breathe and relax." Sam says calmly and softly and Dean wants to nod, but he can't… not pinned like that with Sam's palm on his forehead and a fuckin' tube stuck down his throat.

He raises up his right hand that was before gripping the side of Sam's shirt, near his hip and grips Sam's forearm, digs his blunt nails in his brother's skin and breathes out through his nose, closes his eyes and relaxes into the bed. Because really… he has no other option. The cure is being pumped into him and that's it. That's it.

"You're doing great, man."

He wants to punch his brother, kick and scream and he doesn't care anymore if his brother won't be able to have kids in the future.

He's done. He's just… done. He's been in some embarrassing situations before, awkward so bad that it made him blush all the way up to his ears, but this… this takes the cake.

Nerves that he never even knew he had come alive and his chest and throat and head start to ache… a deep ache, one he never experienced before, never and he has been hurt so many times, he lost count a while back.

His spine tingles, like small barely there electric shocks made home there, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

"'s okay, you're okay." Sam's words are meaningless, they mean nothing to him, because he has a damn tube down his throat and all he wants to do is scream himself hoarse, but he can't do that, so he takes whatever Sam's giving him – words and touch – and tucks it away for comfort.

He opens his eyes, because in the darkness… the hurt he's feeling is more real, 's like he can touch it… but looking up at his brother, seeing how Sam's hair is falling into his eyes, the hidden concern shining in those eyes… feels better, feels like he can get through this.

There's a dull ache spreading from his shoulders down his back, saying hello to the electric shocks in his spine until it finally settles in his chest.

Sam's face is starting to swim before his eyes, the ceiling - as much as he can see around Sam - is but a blur and the cure's still flowing into his stomach.

"Just relax man." Sam whispers.

He's choking, his throat constricting when the dull ache decides to go visit it and he closes his eyes; he has no other choice, it's an impulse.

"Calm down, we gotcha."

Dean thinks that Sam can probably feel his heartbeat, they're so close, because he's sure he can feel his brother's.

Sam's palm is still stroking the side of his neck and it's soothing, it's real… even if he hates his brother right now… hates him so much, but loves him too, because his little brother just saved his life.

"'kay, we're gonna pull it out now, think that's enough."

Dean opens his eyes, a stray tear falling out of his right eye and sees Sam's face soften even more, just like it does when they talk to a witness that has seen horrible, horrible things. He doesn't like that look directed at him, because he's not helpless, he's not scared, he's… he's freaking terrified, 's what he is. Scared that what they did… won't be enough and he'll have to swallow down the tube again and again and again until he'll be cured.

"Cough, come on."

Dean does; coughs and splutters and gurgles and just wants to pull the damn tube out of his mouth himself, but all he can do is grab hold of Sam's forearm tighter, making his brother hiss… he feels better then.

"'s almost out."

_Thank you genius, 'm feeling it go out. _

"Okay, okay, 's out."

He eyes the fuckin' tube going away from his mouth, a string of thick pink saliva following it as long as it can, before gravity pulls it down to land on his chin and Sam wipes it away with the hem of his shirt.

Dean breathes; deep through his nose, filling up his lungs as if he hadn't breathed in ages.

He looks up at Sam, blinks and his brother Sam releases him, gets up on his knees above him and off the bed, he puts his hand to his throat, massaging it and coughing, not wanting to even think about how much his stomach is hurtin' from the cure they pumped into it.

He curls up on his side, facing the window, pulls his knees as high up to his chest as he can, and puts his arms around them.

His throat feels sore, aching and he whispers: "Get out."

"Dean…"

"Get the hell out."

He wants to be left alone to puke his guts out in private, to at least keep some of his dignity, because he knows that puking will lead to crying that will lead to moaning and groaning and more crying and he doesn't want to share that with Bobby or his brother.

But he knows; he knows he won't be left alone, because Sam will be standing right outside the door listening for any sign of trouble and even if he's pissed at his little brother right now, that thought… that thought makes him okay, makes this not so scary.

-:-

Sam closes the door and turns to Bobby who's still holding the tube.

"We saved his life, he'll see that in the mornin', Sam."

"Yeah, yeah we did."

Sam can live with his brother being pissed at him for a while, but he can't live with his brother dead.

"Listen I'll stay here, you know if..."

Bobby says nothing. Just leaves, because there's nothing to say really. Nothing to say.

* * *

**The End. **


End file.
